After completing my music book memoir, and reflecting on its content, my life in the music business and the musicians that I represented, the thought came to me that nice guys finish last in our business.
At the time I was running American Talent International (ATI) in New York, the booking agency I founded with partners Jeff Franklin and Sol Saffian. Many of the artists appearing in this music book memoir — including Rare Earth, Badfinger, Rory Gallagher, Savoy Brown and Deep Purple — were part of the same roster we were representing during those years. Because of that, my dealings with them were not distant industry encounters but part of the day-to-day business of working with musicians, their managers, and the promoters bringing rock shows across America in the early 1970s.
ATI itself came out of the remains of Action Talent, Inc., which meant that when we took over the business we inherited a number of bubble-gum touring acts such as The 1910 Fruitgum Company. Those groups were not artists we had signed. In fact, I quickly moved to remove them from the roster. Representing disposable bubble-gum pop might have been profitable in the short term, but in my view it carried the wrong musical karma. If we were going to build a serious agency, it had to be around real musicians.
From my earlier relationships at ABC and elsewhere, I began bringing in the artists who would shape the direction of the agency. Among the first were Rod Stewart and the Faces, Savoy Brown, The Grease Band, and Keith Emerson, along with others who were part of the rising British rock wave entering the United States at that time.
Even as this applies to myself, while I am surely not complaining from the heights of where my past had taken me, I probably could have gone even further if I were your typical music industry wanker, as the Brits would say. This is not to say that I didn’t have my faults, and that I always conducted myself appropriately, as I had not. But as my music book memoir makes clear, I was ethical in my dealings and did not take advantage of the people I worked with.
As I now look back at some of my clients after writing my music book memoir, I will tell you that despite what people say about rock and roll personalities, some were truly very nice people that I very much enjoyed working with. This is not to say that some were not jerks, or borderline evil, but that many were simply down-home people who carried themselves with class.
Rare Earth
Ron Strassner, now deceased, was the manager back then of Rare Earth, whose photos appear in my music book memoir, photographs I took with my trusty Nikon which seemed to hang around my neck wherever I went. Ron was a true gentleman, and when we talked or negotiated it was always with warmth and professionalism.
That is why when I booked the show at the Ontario Speedway in 1974, Rare Earth appeared on the bill. The band themselves were always friendly to me and treated me with kindness, something readers of this music book memoir will recognize about many of the musicians I dealt with during those years.
Rare Earth also holds an interesting place in music history through Motown’s Rare Earth label, something explored in reference works such as The Motown Encyclopedia by Graham Betts.
Badfinger: When Nice Guys Truly Finished Last
Badfinger were a case in point of a band made up of four genuinely nice kids. They are the first musicians in my music book memoir who truly finished last despite their talent and decency.
Their tragedy stemmed from their American manager Stan Polley, who to me was one of the most reprehensible people I ever encountered in the business. My partner at ATI saw fit to place Polley in that position, and the consequences were devastating.
The story of Badfinger’s financial exploitation has been chronicled elsewhere, most notably in Dan Matovina’s book Without You: The Tragic Story of Badfinger.
Badfinger did have an English manager before Polley, Bill Collens, a simple and cherubic man who treated the band like family. Collens had managed them from their earliest days until Polley displaced him in 1970.
Looking back now while writing my music book memoir, I regret that I did not fully understand then what could have been done to challenge Polley’s control over their royalties.
Rory Gallagher: A Truly Decent Man
Rory Gallagher was another musician I remember with great fondness in this music book memoir. Rory was humble, intelligent, and simply enjoyable to be around.
He once introduced me to my first taste of warm Guinness in a small Irish bar in London. His brother Donal was equally generous, even letting me stay in his London home during one of my visits.
Rory’s life and career are also documented in Marcus Connaughton’s biography Rory Gallagher: His Life and Times, but the Rory I remember from my music book memoir was a thoughtful and decent human being first, and a brilliant guitarist second.
Savoy Brown and the Business Side of Rock
Savoy Brown — the original lineup with Kim Simmonds, Roger Earl, Dave Peverett, Tony Stevens, and Chris Youlden — were all what you might call “nice guys.”
Roger Earl once visited my home in Manhattan and later provided a comment for the back cover of my music book memoir.
Down the line, however, the business side of rock sometimes intrudes. Kim’s wife eventually convinced him that I was unnecessary as an agent and replaced me herself. She even managed to convince Kim that a video I produced — one that actually made a $2,000 profit — was a waste of money.
Savoy Brown’s role in the British blues explosion is discussed in Alan Harper’s British Blues: The Rise of a Global Music.
Deep Purple and an Unexpected Gesture
Another group of genuinely decent fellows were Deep Purple. They treated me extremely well and we always got along.
My music book memoir recounts a remarkable moment at the Ontario Jam in 1974. When promoters claimed they were losing money despite a massive crowd, Deep Purple voluntarily returned $100,000 of their $400,000 fee.
Their later troubles came from financial mismanagement involving offshore accounts and their accountant Dipak Rao.
Much of the band’s turbulent history is documented in books such as Dave Thompson’s Smoke on the Water: The Deep Purple Story.
Neil Bogart, One of the Classiest
My final entry among the truly decent figures in this music book memoir is Neil Bogart, founder of Casablanca Records.
Our companies worked closely together, particularly with artists such as Kiss. Neil was a gentleman and someone I always enjoyed dealing with, as was his right-hand man Larry Harris.
Neil’s story and the rise of Casablanca Records are told from the inside in Harris’s book And Party Every Day: The Inside Story of Casablanca Records.
Neil died far too young at just 39 from lymphoma. One cannot help wondering how much further he might have gone in the music business.
Why These Stories Matter
Readers who enjoy a celebrity memoir book often expect tales of outrageous behavior from rock musicians. Yet the truth revealed in many celebrities memoirs is that kindness and decency appear far more often than legend suggests.
A music book memoir can reveal these personal truths in ways ordinary journalism cannot. Many memoirs celebrity readers encounter tell stories from the outside, while a celebrity memoir book written by someone inside the business often reveals a very different reality.
In the case of this music book memoir, the surprising lesson is that many of the nicest people I encountered in rock and roll were the musicians themselves. Sadly, as many celebrities memoirs reveal, the people around them were not always so honorable.
